


A Plan for the Future

by dorrinverrakai1



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: F/M, depictions of decaptiation, questionable use of human remains, shameless thievery of indiefic's characters and themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorrinverrakai1/pseuds/dorrinverrakai1
Summary: This fic takes place post train wreck. It's written as a companion piece to my other fic A Good Man. This is Curtis' perspective.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indiefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Balance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792604) by [indiefic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic). 



It’s fucking freezing. The old stories of fire and brimstone aren’t true. Hell is frozen over, with ice so cold it burns. The light is so blinding you can’t open your eyes. At least that’s what Curtis hopes for, surcease from the plague of life. Surely he’s earned eternal damnation. There’s too much blood on his hands and innocence in his mouth to come clean.

 

He’s not dead though. He can’t remember the last time he got what he wanted. Never has a bone been thrown his way. His arm hurts like hell and he’s sure he’s been unconscious for some time but yeah… he’s definitely alive. And freezing. He’s not sure how long he’s lain in the snow.

 

He squints his eyes again, slowly adjusting to the glare of sunlight. He picks his head up. He can see now that the train is wrecked, folding and stacking into the distance. God every inch of him hurts, especially his arm. It aches but it’s still attached and it isn’t broken.

 

He gets up, painfully and slowly, gazing again at the wreckage. On one side he finds Yona, Nam, and Timmy. They’re injured but alive just as he is. On the other side, he sees Wilford and Claude. He’s sure Claude is dead seeing as she’s missing the lower half of her body but Wilford… He’s alive. For now.

 

Curtis rips fabric from the dangling remains of Claude’s pants and uses it to tie Wilford’s feet and hands together. He doesn’t want Wilford to conveniently disappear. He’s no longer protected by the fucked up train society. He’s a bottom feeder now just like Curtis.

 

Curtis gets up again from where he squatted to tie Wilford and walks some way down the smoking wreckage of the train. Here and there, survivors huddle together seeking warmth in their new freezing home. He walks back towards Nam, Yona, and Timmy, some of the survivors follow slowly behind him, looking for direction.

 

There’s no sense in dying of hypothermia now. It’s not doing Nam any good to be laying in the snow either. Curtis walks to the train. He doesn’t know fuck all how to run it or fix it, but he knows how to scavenge. Anyone from the tail is well used to scavenging whatever can be used. You name it, they did it.

 

Stronger than some due to extra bug rations, Curtis starts to piece through the wrecked carts, searching for anything that burns. He collects fabric and cushion as he finds them for bedding. He brings his finds to Nam and Yona. Nam can’t stand but Yona gathers the materials Curtis brings and makes a pallet for Nam. Timmy lays down with him under some fabric trying to get warm. Yona manages to get a fire going. Curtis and Yona continue to add to it until a raging fire is there. 

 

Other survivors join them in their scavenging efforts. Curtis slowly notices that he recognizes more people from the tail. Apparently Wilford didn’t get his seventy-four percent like he claimed. Curtis guesses he caused enough distraction on his way to the front and offed enough guards that it made the tail virtually impossible to control.

 

He can see now that the way the train has folded in on itself that the tail came through with the least amount of damage. The front cars are virtually destroyed. If you weren’t thrown from the train after the blast then most likely you didn’t make it.

 

After a while, Curtis feels the familiar hollow ache of hunger, his companion all these years. He looks at his surroundings, taking stock. There isn’t much that can be done. Old methods will have to be employed to ensure survival. No one will starve but they won’t like it either.

 

Curtis looks around again and for the first time catches Grey’s eyes. He’s made it through some how as well. When Grey notices Curtis’s attention he approaches him.

 

“Curtis” Grey nods.

 

“Grey.” Curtis nods in return. “People gotta eat. No fucking bug blocks. I don’t know where a fucking kitchen is in this wreck. There’s plenty of bodies though.”

 

“True. The dead don’t need them anymore but we do. Ain’t no one starving to death now. I’ll see it done” Grey says.

 

Both men look in the distance, momentarily lost in dark thoughts and remembrances of dark deeds. Together they start to gather the dead. More people from the tail approach and help them, understanding exactly what needs to be done.

 

Curtis returns to the fire. He notices that several smaller fires have sprung up around the one he started earlier and that people have been adding to them. He sees that the survivors have started to form tents and line areas with makeshift bedding to bunk down through the night.

 

He helps Yona lift Nam and bring him to the smaller fire she’s maintaining with several other women. Timmy’s already there with a couple other kids. They’re playing quietly nearby with scraps of this and that.

 

“Curtis. You must find them.” Nam tells him. “You can’t let any of those bastards take over. You can’t let them have our new world. Find the guards, the sympathizers, the ones who knew. Find them all. Justify what they did, and they have no place here.”

 

Curtis knows Nam is right but he wonders what makes him any better. Don’t these people know what he’s done? What he’s capable of? Does enough despair and suffering justify your own acts of inhumanity? Alone, cold, dark, hungry. Those aren’t excuses for what he did, but Nam is right. Those fat fucks from the front don’t give a damn about repentance. They felt safe in their own little environment culling the tail for years using the tail’s children to power their marvelous eternal engine. Once again he will do what has to be done. He has so much red in his ledger, he’ll never be clean anyways. He knows exactly what innocence tastes like.  
Curtis walks back to where Grey is overseeing the extraction of the dead. “We have to find them Grey. Those fat fucks from the front. The guards. The inner circle. We need them accounted for. We need to know what they know. Fucking Wilford is alive but he’s not awake. We can’t get what we need from him. Gather some people. We need to look for them. We need some examples.”

 

Grey nods. He understands all too well the precarious new balance they need to maintain. He singles out some of the best survivors from the tail. Those able bodied and fit enough to be of use. There’s work to be done.

 

They search through and around all the compartments they can reach. The pale snow making the injured easy to track. They herd them all with axes and what other weapons are at hand to the fires, innocent or not. Those obviously guards are hog tied and join Wilford at the large fire. The people in the front have kept it going a beacon of hope for all those still alive.

 

Curtis picks a guard at random. They haul him up and make him stand. “Tell me who your superiors are. Who is Wilford’s inner circle?”

 

The guy stares at him blankly so Curtis demands again, “Tell me who your superiors are. Who is Wilford’s inner circle?”

 

The guard remains mute. Curtis isn’t sure if it’s defiance or the poor fucker is already gone mad. He doesn’t care either way he needs an example. He takes his head with an axe. Quickly. Efficiently.

 

He picks out the next guard. The guy’s already pissed himself when he’s hauled to his feet. Curtis asks again “Tell me who your superiors are. Who is Wilford’s inner circle?”

 

The entire mass of survivors are silent. The only sound to be heard is the crackling of the fire and the wind as it moves outside the shelter of the train. The guy cries out sobbing “I’ll tell you please. I’ll tell you. They’re here. Most of them. But not all. Where are the dead? Did you find them? Did you search all the compartments?”

 

Curtis, Grey, and some of the men take the guard to the dead. They’re laid out in shallow graves of snow. Covered with ice except for their faces. A precaution to keep them fresh should they be needed. Some are just heads, their bodies already harvested. 

 

They walk the guard up and down the rows prodding him along when he falters. He points out a few here and there. People close to Wilford. He thinks he knows all of them. When his use has run out he’s given the same treatment as the guard before him and left in his own shallow grave his head propped on top.

 

They return to the main fire and the guards and sympathizers there and of course Wilford’s unconscious body. They repeat the process a few times, trying to insure that no one slips through the cracks. No one who knew what occurred. The survivors watch in silence. Some scared and others glad to see justice served. The sky is growing dark when they’re done with the last one.

 

Curtis decides to give Wilford the same execution. The end is too clean for him and Curtis wishes that Wilford had suffered more. Why is it that the innocent die horrible deaths while the perpetrators live on or go out in peace never facing a single consequence for their actions?

 

Curtis takes Wilford’s head and drives it onto a metal stake. Sinking it deep in the ground in front of the fire for all who remain to see. Wilford’s regime and policies are over and a repeat will not be tolerated. Not on Curtis’ watch. No more children will be sacrificed. No more sick games. No more precious balance.

 

It’s dark now and Curtis returns to Yona’s fire. Some of the men have followed him. He squats next to the fire, running his hands over his face. The men join him. The women here have been hard at work, searing meat, making shelter, gathering what’s useful from the compartments they could reach. He notices several pallets made up with scavenged blankets and a few pillows. He hopes Yona found something for him or he’ll just have to make do with his own jacket and body heat.

 

He looks up when someone hands him a plate. It’s a woman he’s never seen before. Her hand brushes his as she passes the plate to him and she catches his eyes. He stares, entranced. It’s been so long since he’s seen a woman who isn’t starving he’s captivated. Her skin is clear and clean, her hair long, her eyes dark and containing a vitality missing from so many. Her lips and cheeks are lush and full. Curtis is sure he’s never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. He realizes he’s staring and ducks his head.

 

He eats his dinner without commenting. The taste one is he’s long since become familiar with. It’s just another part of survival that he pushes to the back of his mind. He turns to the survivors who’ve followed him all day, working at his side, “We need to split up tonight. Each of you take another divide up as even as you can and take a fire. Stay there. Split the night into shifts. We need to make sure nothing happens. That the survivors remain safe. We don’t know what’s out here and we can’t be sure that we haven’t found all of Wilford’s sympathizers. Grey, Manny, you guys stay. Split the watch here.”

 

The men nod in acknowledgement. They finish the food then move off into groups of their choosing. Curtis hopes they do as he asks. He knows maybe it isn’t quite fair to ask Grey and Manny to take a watch tonight but god damn it he deserved something… anything… for reaching the engine and stopping their hellride. One selfish act for his reward even though he knows he doesn’t truly deserve it. Grey and Manny move down around the other end of the fire and look out towards the entrance to their shelter, discussing amongst themselves who will watch first.

 

Curtis sets the plate down beside him and is looking into the fire aimlessly, when the woman approaches him again. She passes him a warm mug. Curtis takes a sip. It’s fucking tea. God it’s been so long since he’s had anything but rancid water and bug blocks. The tea is warm and soothing and he closes his eyes as he savors it, a small respite. 

 

His eyes are still closed when he feels the woman draw near again. He feels the touch of a warm cloth against the side of his face, where he knows he has a cut sustained during the explosion. She’s gentle and it feels so damn good. He’s not inclined to stop her from doing whatever she wants. Slit his throat. Kiss him. Either option is bliss.

 

She bathes his face, his beard, his hair and it feels better than any remembered bath or shower. She even tries to clean his hands. The fresh blood comes off but the blood and grime of years under his nails will stay with him for another night, reminders to his conscience. She’s done and he just looks at her. She’s so beautiful. He can’t imagine what she wants. 

 

Well maybe he can but it’s been a long time since he’s known a woman that way. He long since swore off sex, unwilling to father a starving hopeless train baby. Maybe he’ll change his mind. He wants to forget. He needs something, anything, to take his mind off what’s been done. He wants to stop thinking if only for a few moments.

 

Maybe that’s all she wants, to forget with someone the horrors of the day and suppress thoughts of the future. He’s not entirely sure why she’s singling him out but he’s also not inclined to care. He doesn’t want to care about anything right now. God she’s gorgeous. It’s obvious she’s from the front, her figure lush and full even under the layers of oversized clothing she’s wearing.

 

She takes his hand and tugs him up. He doesn’t resist. He’s ready to follow wherever she leads, do whatever she wants. She takes him to one of the makeshift beds and stops. She lets go of his hand and bends down and pulls back the covers. She takes her own coat off and then her pants, kicking her boots and clothes to the side.

 

She gazes up at him and starts to unbutton his own coat. He stares down at her bemused. Surely she’s some spring goddess sent to torture him. He’s just a fool willing to do anything she wants. He sucks in a breath as her fingers graze his stomach. She unbuttons his pants and pushes them down over his hips. He toes out of his own boots and kicks them and his pants to the side as she did.

 

She lays down and keeps the covers open. It’s an invitation he can’t refuse. He lays next to her on his side and waits. He can’t fathom for the life of him what the fuck she wants with him. Other than the obvious. He also doesn’t understand how a woman like this doesn’t already have a man somewhere. Maybe he’s just waiting in the dark to off Curtis when he’s distracted.

 

She touches his face and he closes his eyes, leaning into the contact. It’s been so long since he’s been intimate. It’s been even longer since he felt comfort of any sort.

 

She draws his face close and they kiss slow and tender, savoring the moment. He notices again how good she smells, how clean, how sweet. She lets out a soft sound and he’s over her in a heartbeat. He insinuates himself between her legs pressing down. He can feel the heat of her through the thin barrier of their underwear and grinds down. She moans again softly as he moves his kisses down her neck. He presses his face against her breathing in deeply. God she smells so good. She feels so good, soft and warm in all the right places. He grinds down on her like a lust stricken teenage boy and he’s vaguely aware of her nails on his back as her legs wrap around his waist.

 

She moans again and he’s up in a flash, pulling his shirt over his head. He pushes her shirt up and over her breasts and stops and stares. They’re lush and full and as perfect as he imagined, her nipples pointing up at him a siren’s call he can’t resist. He gently cups both breasts with his hands testing the soft weight of them. He ducks his face down between them sure that he’s found heaven on earth. He peppers both breasts with wet kisses. He sucks both nipples giving them equal attention, teasing them into hard peaks.

 

He pulls back again and pushes his shorts down and kicks them off. He grabs her underwear and she lifts her hips so he can push them off too. He moves to settle himself between her legs but she stops him when she grasps his penis in her hand. She strokes him, rubbing her thumb over the tip of his cock, and then strokes him more firmly.

 

He bats her hands away and holds them firmly above her head with his left hand. He’s too close and it’s been too long. He doesn’t want the show to be over before it can begin. He positions himself between her legs with his right hand and slowly pushes in. He pauses once he’s in as far as he can go. He thought earlier that he found heaven on earth but he was wrong. This is surely it. She’s warm, wet, and perfect. He can feel her squeezing down on him.

 

She grabs his ass and sinks her nails in as he begins to move his hips, each stroke bringing more pleasure than the last. He’s aware again just how close he is as he kisses her, picking up the pace of his hips. He reaches his right hand between them gently feeling for her clit. He finds her stroking her once or twice, he’s not sure. She squeezes harder on him, moaning. He can feel her start to flutter around him and he knows she’s coming. He manages a few more strokes before burying himself as deep as he can and coming apart.

 

He lays on top of her for a minute or two, savoring the feel of her, basking in the aftermath. He’s still not quite sure why he’s not dead yet but damn if he doesn’t feel marginally better.

 

He pulls out eventually and they rearrange so that he’s on his back and she cuddles close to his side resting her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his own. He puts his arm around her and holds her close. He wonders again why she chose him. He wonders as well if she’ll want to do it again tomorrow. His first plan for the future.


End file.
